


Will-O'-Wisps

by Krey9J



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: "Bullfight" by Édouard Manet, (Every avid ABO reader'd know: because Mizumono), Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Ghosts alike, HCs of The Lecter Dvaras, I've not read Hannibal Rising but I have friend who did :"""))), Implied Mpreg, Inside Hannibal's Head, Is supernatural but no power or anything powerful, M/M, Miscarriage, More tags to be added, Near Death Experiences, No Major Character Death, No Plot/Plotless, Omega Will, POV Hannibal Lecter, References of The Lecter Dvaras, Resolution, Spooky Hannibal Fic Exchange, TWoTL, That's why MCD isn't rated Don't worry, This is about what Hannibal feels and thinks, Will is in the fic but like not really, ghost - Freeform, hung in the cliff house but this show was too dark to see, shfe2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 23:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16459400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krey9J/pseuds/Krey9J
Summary: As the fall happened, Hannibal's unconsciously having his last-minute thoughts as he faces death, which turn out to save him out of death.A Halloween gift to Slashy. I apologize for it still hasn't been finished within Halloween.





	Will-O'-Wisps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slashyrogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashyrogue/gifts).



> Slashy gave me key words to create and I chose: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter: Abo, ghosts. Thank you so much!!
> 
> Tho not required, you guys should check out the meta post linked below before reading for a clearer idea of the painting.
> 
> Shout out to [TreacleA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreacleA) and [Nalyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra)  
> to have kept the ["Bullfight" painting meta post](http://treacle-a.tumblr.com/post/177660890166/sometimes-i-am-just-filled-with-awe-for-our-show)  
> go check them out!!
> 
> Shout out to [broken_fannibal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_fannibal/pseuds/broken_fannibal)  
> to have given me details of the Lecter Dvaras.

※ Chesapeake Bay, Maryland ※

 

The night moth glides against the breeze, faintly salty, coming through the hollow in the door. The moth has landed and spent some time on the framed edge of a glowing wooden screen standing next to a textured wall, where a painting hung; in front of the wall seated a rectangular Japanese paper lamp whose golden light bounces back on the surface behind. These pieces of furnishing altogether form an absolutely collaborative decoration, with each of the elements compliments another.

The little nocturnal adventurer decides to move just now. Perhaps it got bored with the mundane setting of a quiet house at night, it is finding its way out of the room. It wants to fly out to where air comes in, its own instinct knows where open air is. Navigating itself in the direction of light sources, starting from the warm and glowy screen, it reaches the lamp. After it hovers above the golden radiance, its patterned wings flutter even more vigorously, lifting itself up as thought to admire the painting. The painting is framed at the center of the wall, undoubtedly the attraction of the surface, possibly of the whole room. The watercolor on graphite body of art consists of primary colors that are white, gold and brown, accented with black and red.

 

  


Gold light, brown earth, black bull, red blood.

A work by French artist Édouard Manet, “Bullfight” depicts the violent moment of a bull goring a horse with its horns against the arena, the horse rider who wields sharp weapon is caught between the breath of life and death. Spectators get up from their seats and try to reach in, an attempt to resolve the situation. A glimpse of hope in the middle of chaos, a touch of humanity emerges from the beastly struggle; man and beast bare themselves for each other in the fight against each other, going for the kill. The sight freezes precisely there, the explicit moment of raw violence; they all have bled.

_ It was lethal. _

The moth then leaves the intense atmospheric painting and continues its way out. Again, the path to follow is where the next distant light source is, none other than the moon. How convenient, the moth knows where to head, naturally. There is no distraction on its path now, by floating mid-air, it couldn't careless about the shattered glass on the floor, nor would the spattered puddles of red wine could ever slip it. The moth has flown out successfully through the door frame whose glass are no longer panels intact, but crumbles of shards sprinkled at its feet.

 

  


_ Glass and wine bottle were only among the ones broken that night. _

The winged being enters the vast darkness and baths itself in moonlight; it looks radiant. Little does it know, before it comes, another winged being did. However, the previous individual has failed flat to the ground. Torn red wings spilled all over the stone-cold earth but under the moonlight, they — it looks black.

The moth swirls around to the caress of the wind blowing from the cliff side. The bluff that is eroding, where rocks and dirt are not solely the things to have fallen from.

_ It was black in the moonlight, and it was beautiful. _

  
  


★★★★★✩✩✩✩✩

  
  


※ Lecter Dvaras, Aukštaitija, Lithuania ※

 

He soon recognizes the idyllic smell of the air, the nostalgic color of the grass and the melancholic shapes of these stones, but he didn't remember to ever decide to going — returning here. He observes as he continues walking to the direction of a certain stone, carefully so he doesn't touch the others. The closer he comes, the more candidly could he accept: he really is here.

_ Home.  _ The Lecter’s estate.

And, he's aware which part of the land this is; if he knew he was going to this particular area, he would bring flowers. Whether they are pink, red, or yellow, or blue, she would love them very much.

She loved flowers because nothing else could be so full of life as they are.

Hannibal moves on slowly until he kneels down on both knees, one step short from the tombstone.

“It's been too long, big brother misses you,” he whispers the name inscribed on the stone surface, his tone is calmed and attentive, mixed with endearment.

”Mischa.”

 

  


The breath that delivers his little sister’s name warms his lips. He doesn't think he imagined it, but the moment after he’d spoken her name, one side of his cheeks seemed to also heat up to a tender, invisible brush; it somewhat feels like a kiss.

_ A sharp realization follows him. _

His whole body shudders, a chill running down his spine. He clutches both arms to his sides and takes a deep breath. As he hunches down to himself and digs his fingers into the softness of the fabric, he could see the suit he is wearing, it is the one least worn in his wardrobe; a formal black velvety suit, with solid black tie, full-Windsor knotted, all of which comes atop a crisp white dress shirt. An attire reserved purely for the special occasions.

A very specific kind of occasions that would require black. 

As well as being present at the cemetery.

_ So this is… what it is. _

He releases himself, looks up and grips his palms to the tombstone, as firm as he could, at the same time as gentle as he’d like. There is nothing to be afraid, he knew this would be coming, and he should be glad it is coming like this.

Hannibal closes his eyes and presses his forehead to Mischa. A silver streak of hair dangles between the furrowing of his faded eyebrows.

“I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.”

There is barely a choke in his words.

 

_ Chapter 1: Black, #Hannigram _


End file.
